Hellgate: Goetia

by Mel Odom

  Simon resisted the impulse to lift his pistol. He doubted Booth’s pistol could penetrate his armor even at the short range.

  “The war is already here,” Simon said. “It’s not going to go away just because you hide from it.”

  “Don’t you get it?” Booth asked. “Why haven’t you gotten it through that thick skull of yours? The war is already over.”

  Despite the undead closing in around him, Simon was confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “The war with the demons,” Booth said. “It’s over. We lost.”

  “No. We’re just getting started. That’s why Lord Sumerisle sacrificed all the Templar at the Battle of All Hallows’ Eve. To buy us time.”

  “Time? Time for what? So we can die more slowly?”

  Simon didn’t say anything.

  “You’re an idiot,” Booth exploded. “Lord Sumerisle led those Templar into battle thinking that was going to be the end of it. They expected to rout the demons and throw them out of this world. They didn’t believe for a second that they were going to have their heads handed to them.”

  “That’s not true,” Simon said. The story that had been told for four years was an important one. The sacrifice of the Templar was a tale of respect and honor.

  “They’d never fought a Hellgate before,” Booth said. “Don’t you see? They’d trained and practiced for years. For generations. All to beat the demons in one battle. That didn’t happen. They lost.” He waved his arms helplessly to point out the undead all around them. They filled the moat now and were starting to climb up onto the bridge. “We lost, Simon. The Templar are pathetic. Despite all our weapons and our training, the demons spanked us and sent us home. The one who didn’t die immediately in that battle? We’re the unlucky ones.”

  “No,” Simon argued. “My father was not a foolish man. What you’re describing describes foolish men. That was not Thomas Cross. Not for his life. Not for a night. Not for a moment.”

  “But it is the truth,” Booth said. “And you just keep stirring up the Templar. You keep giving them some kind of hope and spreading the idiocy. If you’d just leave it alone, just die or go away so that we never have to hear of you again, the survivors could just sit back and live out our lives in secrecy.”

  “That’s not how we’re supposed to live.”

  “Then we’ve been living,” Booth argued. “All these years hidden away from the rest of the world? We’ve already been living like that. But you insist on luring them out of their shells. They’re going to get caught, and they’re going to give up the Templar Underground so that we’re all killed. And it will be all your fault.”

  Simon thought of the young male and female Templar back at his stronghold and how few—if any—of them would live long lives.

  It’s not about how long your life is, boy, Simon heard his father say again. It’s about how long it’s worth living.

  “Simon,” Wertham said. “We’re losing our chance to get out of here.”

  Simon nodded to the helicopter. “We can get you out of here,” he told Booth.

  Booth shook his head. “I’ll take my chances with the undead. They may not get me killed. That’s not true of you, Simon. You’re going to get a lot of people killed.” Without another word, he turned and ran. He blasted undead and used the suit’s prowess to leap over them.

  None of the other Templar followed him. Two of them had fallen to the undead.

  “We’ll take you up on your offer, Lord Cross,” one of them said.

  “You know you don’t have to give them a ride,” Nathan said. “Kidnappers and torturers, the lot of them.”

  “No,” Simon said, “they’re Templar. Our brothers and sisters. We won’t leave them behind.”

  They all loaded onto the helicopter. The pilot lifted them out of the clutches of the undead and unlimbered the jet thruster.

  In seconds, the Tower of London was in the distance and Simon was headed for home. He tried to keep his eyes open and couldn’t. He sunk down to his haunches and rested his head on his knees. The vibration of the fleeing helicopter lulled him to sleep.

  EPILOGUE

  S imon woke two days later, but he didn’t know it until he climbed into his armor—against doctor’s orders—and checked the time. Then he was irritable because he felt like he’d lost too much time.

  Also, despite the nanomolecular bonding that had been done on his jaw, it fit differently and gave him a headache. But he could eat solid food and he found he was ravenous. However, he ate on the go.

  Word had gotten out about his injuries and—according to Nathan—there was some speculation about whether Simon was going to be able to walk again. So he showed them.

  The first thing he discovered was that the stronghold’s population had grown again. More Templar had abandoned the Underground and joined his group.

  “It’s a blessing and a problem,” Wertham said. “It’s good to have the extra manpower, but feeding and billeting them is becoming a real chore.”

  Simon sighed, feeling challenged and proud all at the same time. “We’re going to have to expand.”

  “Again, you mean,” Wertham said. “And the larger we get, the easier it’ll be for the demons to find us.”

  That was a real concern.

  Fortunately, Professor Macomber thought he had an answer to that. He’d been working with some of the Templar linguists.

  As it turned out, the hidden text in the Goetia manuscript was actually an artificial language that they were still in the process of deciphering.

  “What we’ve discovered about it is nothing short of amazing,” Macomber said when he met with Simon. The professor had been working nonstop since he’d arrived at the stronghold. “If what we think we’ve found is true, we may have a way of erecting barriers that the demons can’t penetrate.”

  “That would be good,” Simon said. “There are a lot of women and children here that could use a safer place.”

  “But there’s more,” Macomber went on. “What we’ve been working on suggests that there lies within this world a way to defeat the demons and reclaim what was lost.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Demons are part of the eternal battle between Light and Darkness. The Hellgate, according to the Goetia manuscript, will never open on a world that lacks the ability to save itself.”

  “So somewhere in this world—”

  “Somewhere in London, actually,” Macomber corrected.

  “—there’s a way to defeat the demons.”

  Macomber nodded. “I believe it’s true. Everything I’ve read about the Light and Darkness tells us that a balance must be struck. In order for something to risk being lost, there must also be a way to win it.”

  “We just have to find it,” Simon said.

  “And learn to use it,” Macomber said.

  “While trying very hard not to get killed doing either of those things,” Nathan pointed out.

  “Well then,” Simon said, smiling. “It sounds like we’ve got it all figured out. That’s something.”

  A few hours later, Simon found Leah outside the stronghold. She was checking over the motorcycle she’d rode in on when she’d brought the Goetia manuscript back.

  “Leaving?” Simon asked.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I didn’t want to wear out my welcome.”

  Simon stood over her and watched her work for a time. “You could have left earlier.”

  She stood and faced him. “Nope. Not till I knew you were back on your feet.”

  “Now that I’m back on my feet, you could stay another day or two.”

  “Could I now?”

  Behind his faceplate, Simon smiled. “I woke up feeling hopeful. That’s the first time in a long time that I’ve felt that way. I kind of liked the idea of sharing that with someone.”

  “There are even more people here to share it with than before,” Leah pointed out.

  Knowing she wasn’t going to let him get by w
ithout saying it, Simon told her, “I’d really like it if you could stay a couple of days. I’d like the chance to get to know you better.”

  She regarded him from behind the black mask, her features expressionless. “We don’t even know if we have a chance for a tomorrow. Why should you ever get to know more than you already know right now?”

  “Because I’d love the chance to.”

  “Feeling grateful because I saved your arse?”

  Simon grinned. “No. You’re a hard woman to get to know, Leah.”

  “I’ve lived that kind of life,” Leah said. “Didn’t have much use for friends or trust when I was growing up.”

  “I don’t have anything else to offer you.”

  Leah reached behind her head and opened her mask. She shook her hair out and looked up at him. “Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll find that tempting.” She ran her fingers up under his faceplate and his helmet popped open.

  That surprised Simon and it must have shown on his face.

  “I’ve really got to get those security problems fixed,” he said.

  She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “But maybe not this one?”

  “Maybe not,” he agreed.

  Warren woke in darkness and pain. He felt feverish and weak. Glancing down at his right arm, he found it ended in a stump that was wrapped in white gauze.

  When he’d first regained consciousness, he’d tried to heal himself. The bleeding had stopped and new skin had formed, but he hadn’t been able to regrow his hand.

  He was a cripple again.

  Not only that, but a lot of his strength and power seemed to be gone as well. He was forced to admit that not all of what he’d had was his. It had been borrowed from Merihim.

  Now it was gone.

  Naomi was gone. As soon as she’d made certain he was going to live—and that his powers had been curtailed—she’d gone.

  In a way, Warren didn’t blame her. She needed to learn in order to stay alive in the world. He had nothing left to teach her.

  Not even the voice had remained.

  “I’m here, Warren,” the voice said.

  Surprised, Warren stared into the darkness because it sounded as if the voice were in the room with him. “Where have you been?”

  “Getting things ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “You. For your next step in your evolution.”

  “Merihim took my hand.”

  “I know. I was there.”

  “You knew he was going to do that, didn’t you?” Warren accused. “You saw that.”

  “Yes.”

  “You could have stopped it.”

  “I didn’t wish to. You’d become dependent on Merihim. I wouldn’t have been able to break you away. You needed someone stronger, but you didn’t know it.”

  “You?”

  “Yes, me.”

  Warren laughed bitterly. “You’re bound. What can you do to help me?”

  “I already have. All you have to do is pull me back into your world.”

  “How?”

  “Go to the book.”

  Warren did, and when she bade him to place his hand upon it, he did. He was surprised to feel a small, strong hand take hold of his. Gently, he pulled the hand free of the book.

  A young woman with black hair and dark eyes with a complexion the color of fresh milk stepped out of the book. She leaned forward and kissed him, and it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

  “Thank you,” she said. She held up a metallic hand that was cunningly artificed. “This has a tremendous amount of power. Merihim will regret hurting you. All of them will. And I am going to give it to you.”

  She held the hand to his stump. A series of metallic pins unfolded from the center and stabbed into his arm. There was only a moment of pain, then Warren felt better than he had in days.

  “Who are you?” he whispered.

  She smiled at him and kissed him again. “I’m every dark desire you’ve ever had. Call me Lilith.”

  THE HELLGATE: LONDON SAGA

  CONTINUES IN BOOK THREE:

  COVENANT

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Mel Odom lives in Moore, Oklahoma, with his wife and children. He’s written dozens of books, original as well as tie-ins to games, shows, and movies such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Blade, and received the Alex Award for his novel The Rover. His novel Apocalypse Dawn was runner-up for the Christie Award.

  He also coaches Little League baseball and basketball, teaches writing classes, and writes reviews of movies, DVDs, books, and video games.

  His Web page is www.melodom.com, but he blogs at www.melodom.blogspot.com. He can be reached at mel@melodom.net.